Burning Flames Or Paradise
by flowerrrs25
Summary: and when we go crashing down/we come back every time. raura. one-shot.


A/N: Yeah so this is a fic inspired by Taylor Swift's _Style_. I can't seem to stop writing Ross and Laura lately for some reason. I've been sitting on it for like a month but I finally finished it and I like it a lot and I hope you guys enjoy it too. Laura and Frida, I especially hope you guys like it.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the story.

* * *

><p>She wakes up with a start, her hand reflexively scrambling to grab her buzzing phone from her nightstand. She opens the flip phone and blinks sleepily at the bright screen to see a text message.<p>

_3 minutes._

She shouldn't go. It would be so easy to ignore the text and pretend that she was asleep and _ignore him and not go_.

Instead, she takes off her pajamas and pulls on the short skirt she had been wearing all day and a tank top, not bothering with a bra. It's not like she'll need it, she thinks bitterly, hating herself for being so weak. She runs a brush through her hair and swipes on some lip gloss, not even bothering to look in the mirror, and then tiptoes out of her room.

The house is dark since it's just past midnight, her parents fast asleep on the other side of the long hallway, and she leaves through the front door, making sure to quietly lock it behind her. She stands there for a minute, shivering slightly from the cool night air, and then a car pulls up in front of her house, headlights off and engine idling.

She shuts her eyes for a moment. She shouldn't go. She shouldn't go. _She shouldn't go_.

But she finds herself walking toward the car as if there's a magnetic pull drawing her to it before wordlessly opening the passenger door and climbing in.

He pulls away as soon as she closes the door and she stares at her lap, feeling his eyes on her every few moments, but he doesn't say a word. She chances a glance at him when she finally gets enough courage and she draws in a sharp breath.

He's not wearing anything out of the ordinary, just ripped jeans and a white T-shirt, and his hair is a little longer than she likes, but the expression on his face goes straight to her core. His jaw is tight and his mouth is set in a straight line – he looks angry and irritated and incredibly turned on all at the same time. She swallows nervously but doesn't say anything, quickly turning away when he looks in her direction with dark, hardened eyes.

He clears his throat and her entire body tightens, her nipples immediately pebbling against the thin fabric of her tank top, and she silently curses how easily her body reacts to him. "I didn't think you would come."

She takes a breath. "Me either," she replies, and she turns her head slightly to see his jaw clench even further.

He doesn't say anything more but continues to drive, the speedometer slowly inching toward dangerous numbers. She keeps quiet, but she's clenching the seat so tightly her knuckles begin to turn white and her breathing becomes shallower as her heartbeat quickens. And then, all of a sudden, he's slowing down and pulling over, until they reach a dark, secluded overlook that she's become very familiar with over the past few months.

He parks and turns the car off and they both sit there silently after unbuckling their seatbelts, still not looking at each other. She can hear the steady sound of his breathing and her heart is pounding in her ears and she closes her eyes for a moment.

_I shouldn't I shouldn't I shouldn't I should_—

And then he's cupping her face, turning her towards him, and she barely has a moment to blink before his lips are on hers and she forgets how to breathe.

She sinks into him like he's her oxygen and water and shelter and everything she could possibly ever want or need and his hands are in her hair and she doesn't know how she ever thought she could quit this, quit _him_.

And then she picks up on a faint, unfamiliar smell. It's fruity and sugary and nauseating and something she would never wear and she pushes back from him, her eyes blazing. "You were with _her_ tonight," she snaps.

His eyes narrow and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still breathing heavily. "Yeah, and you were with _him_," he retorts angrily. "I smelled douchebag on you the second you got in the car."

"Fuck you," she says, crossing her arms.

"Only if you're the one doing the fucking," he replies bitterly, glaring at her.

Her chest tightens uncomfortably. "You have _no_ right to be angry."

"Neither do you!" he exclaims. "So why are you so pissed?"

She crosses her arms in anger. "I don't want to be your sloppy seconds after your bimbo girlfriend fucked you first."

He sits up straighter and leans towards her, his eyes almost black with fury. "She's not my fucking girlfriend," he spits. "And what the fuck, I didn't have sex with her before I came here."

"Why'd you even text me?" she asks irritably. "You haven't texted me in like, a month."

"Why the _fuck_ do you think?" he snarls.

They fall silent for a few moments, the tension between them so thick she feels like she's about to choke on it.

"You make me feel like shit, Ross," she whispers. "Do you know that? You make me feel like _shit_."

"Then why are you _here_, Laura?" he yells. "Why do you keep coming back?"

Her eyes fill with angry tears and she stubbornly tries to blink them back. She doesn't want to cry over this, she _will not_ cry over this. Instead, she blindly reaches for him, her hand fisting his shirt as she pulls him toward her, tears spilling from her eyes the second her lips touch his.

He kisses her like it's the first time and the last time, soft and hard all at once, and she tastes the mint of his toothpaste mixing with the salt of her tears and she can't get close enough, she can't get _enough_.

She grasps his shirt more tightly and he tangles his hand in her hair, his palm pressing against her scalp as he draws her closer to him. She bites his bottom lip hard and he hisses angrily, his other arm now reaching to wrap around her waist as his fingertips dig into her hips. He pulls her forward onto his lap and her knee painfully bumps the gearshift but she doesn't even notice as her other hand wraps around his neck.

She's wedged between him and the steering wheel, her knees on either side of his hips, and he releases her for a moment to push the seat back. Their kisses are sloppy, teeth clacking and tongues clashing but she's on _fire_, every brush of his rough fingertips against the smooth strip of skin between the bottom of her tank top and the top of her skirt driving her insane.

She lowers her hips so she's completely on his lap and she gasps into his mouth when she feels his length, hard and unyielding, pressing into her thigh. He takes that as his cue to lower his large hands to cup her ass and he squeezes harshly, making her pull away from his mouth, her head tilting back in surprise.

He pulls back but she connects their lips again, their kisses just as demanding as before, and he drags his hands up her sides, which are still covered by her tank top. He brings his hands to her front and cups her breasts through the shirt, her already hard nipples tightening further under his wandering fingertips.

He's not being gentle as he pulls and pinches on the hard buds, but she doesn't want him to be, and she takes it out on him by roughly pulling his hair, making him wince into her mouth.

"You're fucking crazy," he mutters, so she angrily lowers her lips to his collarbone and bites down, and his fingertips tighten painfully around her nipples in retaliation.

"Shit," she breathes, as a flood of moisture rushes between her legs, the sensation of pleasure bordering on pain almost unbearable.

"Take your fucking shirt off," he demands, his hands already bunching it up at her armpits, and she raises her arms so he can pull it off of her.

"Yours too," she orders, so he leans back slightly to take it off and she watches the muscles of his arms and lean torso ripple temptingly underneath his tanned skin, hating herself a little more for being so attracted to him.

If he notices her staring, he doesn't say anything and instead starts sucking on her neck, punishing bites followed by soothing licks in all the spots he's come to know are her favorite. She clutches his head and grinds her hips down further onto his and he responds by harshly nipping her neck, making her let out a low groan. He runs his tongue along her collarbone before sucking on it _hard_, his wet tongue swirling along the delicate length as if he's licking an ice cream cone. She foggily realizes that he's marking her, but she wants it, she wants him to do this to her, she wants _him_, and she lifts a hand to the back of his head, pushing his face further into her heated skin.

"I want _him_ and everyone else to fucking see what I do to you," he groans, his lips moving against her neck. "Try and explain this shit away, Laur."

She lets out a shuddering breath but doesn't reply as she pulls back and reaches for his belt buckle, yanking at it harshly to undo it before unzipping his jeans. His erection is straining against the fabric of his boxers and he lifts his hips so he can pull them down along with his jeans, making her bump her head on the roof of the car. She glares at him as she reaches down to pull up her skirt around her hips, making sure to elbow him in the ribs in passing, just to watch his eyes narrow in anger.

"No underwear as usual, huh?" he drawls cockily, his hands already tightly gripping her slim thighs as he positions her on top of him. "You always come prepared," he taunts, an obscene look on his face, and she has the sudden urge to slap him.

"Shut the hell up," she scowls, digging her nails into his shoulders instead. "_Shut up_, you're such a—"

She cuts herself off with her own gasp as he slams himself into her without warning, his hands moving up to hold onto her hips as he sets a punishingly fast pace. He doesn't give her time to adjust but she doesn't really need it, her center so slick with moisture that she can feel it running down her thighs and onto his as he pounds into her.

His fingers are digging painfully into her skin, hard enough to leave bruises, but she doesn't care, she doesn't _care_, her entire _being_ focused on the sensation of him filling her so perfectly that she doesn't know how she will ever have enough.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunts. "Does he fuck you like I fuck you, Laura? Does he make you as wet as I do?"

She squeezes her eyes shut in humiliation as her hands clutch his shoulders almost desperately, already on the verge of her first orgasm.

"Answer me," he demands, one of his hands moving up to firmly cup her breast, but she refuses to open her eyes, refuses to acknowledge the question he already knows the answer to.

He stops moving suddenly, still buried inside her, and her eyes shoot open at the loss of sensation to find him glaring at her. "Answer the fucking question, Laura," he snaps, crudely twisting her nipple to get her attention. "Does _he_ fuck you like I do?"

Anger boils inside her until she can't take it anymore, and she curls her small hands into fists and beats them as hard as she can against his chest. It doesn't even faze him. "No," she screams. "No, Ross, he doesn't! But you already knew that and—"

He cuts her off by grabbing her wrists and then slams his lips to hers, causing her to immediately moans into his mouth, all traces of anger towards him forgotten the instant she feels his lips on hers. His grip on her wrists loosens after a few moments and she circles her hands around his neck, breaking the kiss so she can bury her face in his neck. He starts moving her hips again, more slowly this time, and she lowers herself onto him as far as she can every time he brings her back down, driving him into her as deep as possible.

She's overwhelmed, drunk with arousal, and it only takes him a few more irregular shoves into her tight heat before he lets go, his eyes squeezing shut as he lets out a deep moan. The feeling of him emptying himself into her is too much for her to take and she cums hard, groaning his name only a few seconds later, and he prolongs her orgasm by sloppily rubbing his fingers against her swollen clit as her pussy contracts wildly around him.

She slumps forward onto him, his slowly softening dick still inside her and their sweat slicked bodies pressed so tightly together she can't tell where she ends and he begins.

He gently wraps his arms around her waist and presses his face into her neck and she swears she feels moisture there, but she's too afraid to find out if it's from tears or sweat. So instead, she holds him close, her heart pounding painfully inside her chest as she tries to figure out what this boy means to her.

She draws back after a moment but he immediately follows her, cupping her face in his hands with the most delicate touch she's ever felt, and there's no other word to describe the expression on his face before he pulls her into the softest kiss of her entire life but _heartbreaking_.

He gently tugs her to his chest again, her head resting on his shoulder and his strong arms locked securely around her slender waist, and she suddenly has the urge to cry.

"Take me home," she whispers.

He's quiet for a long moment and she wonders if he even heard her, but then he pulls her so close she can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest.

He presses his lips to the base of her throat so softly that she thinks her heart might rip in half. "Okay."

* * *

><p>The next day, she finds herself standing across from him on set for the episode they're filming that week, and it's so surreal she can barely believe last night even happened.<p>

He slips into character effortlessly, and she watches as his voice takes on the innocent and happy voice of Austin's without skipping a beat. He avoids her eyes as much as he can, though, she notices, but it's not as if she's making an effort to make eye contact with him in the first place.

She goes through the motions almost automatically, switching into her Ally persona as if she's on autopilot, and the morning goes quickly. The next thing she knows, they're breaking for lunch and she politely declines Raini's invitation to eat with her and instead makes a beeline toward her dressing room.

She collapses face first, half her body hanging off the sofa as soon as she gets inside, and lets out a deep exhale into the cushion.

How did she let herself do this _again_? Or, more appropriately, do _him_ again, she thinks cynically.

She forces herself to sit up when her phone buzzes in her purse, so she digs it out.

She sighs at the message.

_Do you want to hang out tonight?_

She types back a response.

_We have a live taping_.

And thank god. She's not really up for a night of terrible conversation followed by her _not-boyfriend_ pawing at her like an inexperienced teenager.

Her phone vibrates again.

_Cool, how about I come down to the studio to see it and we can hang out afterwards?_

Oh. She can't really think of an excuse to get out of this one.

But she can't go back to Ross. She _can't_, she decides. What they have between them is toxic and unhealthy, and she knows she's going to get even more hurt than she already is if she continues to see him. Maybe this would be a way to avoid him.

So reluctantly, she replies back.

_Sure_.

And then, like clockwork, there's a knock on her door.

"I'm busy," she calls, but the knocking only gets more insistent. She sighs in irritation and then stands up to open the door to find Ross on the other side.

She frowns. "I said I'm busy," she says, and moves to close the door, but he brings his hand up to stop it from closing.

"Let me in," he says lowly, his voice rough, and she immediately feels a warm coiling starting low in her belly.

She accidentally loosens her grip on the door so he uses the opportunity to shove his way in and she reluctantly shuts the door behind him.

"Everyone left for lunch," he tells her, and she nods blankly, unwilling to make eye contact with him.

"What do you want?" she asks quietly.

He doesn't say anything right away, and instead walks to stand on the opposite end of the room.

"Ross?"

Another moment passes.

"Are you dating him?" he suddenly snaps, his face twisted in anger.

"_Excuse me_?"

"Are you _dating_ that sack of _shit_?"

Her jaw drops in disbelief and she's suddenly filled with so much anger she feels like she can barely breathe.

"How _dare _you come in here and talk to me like that!" she yells. "What gives you the right to ask me that?"

His eyes narrow and he quickly crosses the distance between them, his face now directly in front of hers, so close she can feel his breath on her skin.

"Answer the fucking question!" he yells, and she can't take it any more.

She lifts her hand before she can even think about it and slaps him hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room as she stares at him in disbelief. He slowly turns his head back towards her, his face eerily calm, and she can't take her eyes off of the angry, pink handprint on his cheek.

"No," she whispers. "I'm not."

He nods.

And then he leaves.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day goes quickly and she doesn't know how she makes it through without breaking down but then the audience arrives and she has to push it all to the back of her mind.<p>

There's a knock on her dressing room door.

"Hey Laura, I'm here!"

She groans internally. Dammit, she thinks. She had totally forgotten that _he_ was coming to the taping tonight. She takes a deep breath and puts a smile on her face and then opens the door.

"Hi," she says, and she's enveloped in a hug before she knows what's happening. She slowly lifts her arms to hug him back, and then she sees movement out of the corner of her eye.

Ross walks out of his dressing room, phone held to his ear as he heads towards her and she can't move, can't _breathe_ as he makes eye contact with her while she's in the arms of someone else.

He freezes almost imperceptibly, his face quickly morphing from disinterest to surprise to anger all in a matter of a few seconds.

"Actually, never mind. I can make it tonight," he says into the phone. His voice drops and his dark eyes bore into hers. "And wear that skirt you know I like."

Her heart starts pounding and she can feel the bile rising in her throat as he makes plans with another girl right in front of her but she can't do anything as she's released from the embrace and Ross starts walking away as if he had never seen her.

"I should go back to the audience, you're on in just a few minutes, right?"

She looks at him blankly.

"Laura?"

She snaps out of it. "Yeah. I'll see you later."

With that, she steps back inside her dressing room and slams the door in his face.

She leans her back against the door and shuts her eyes.

And then she cries.

* * *

><p>She and Ross are nothing short of professional and no one picks up that something is wrong even though she feels like her entire world is caving in. She squeezes his hand hard when he grabs hers during the curtain call but he releases hers as fast as he can and barely glances at her. He stands as far away from her as he can when they take pictures with the audience and she has to <em>force<em> herself to smile and be friendly to their fans.

When it's over, he walks away after saying goodbye to everyone but her and she slips away quietly into her dressing room, her hands shaking and her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She can't do this, she thinks. How is she supposed to do this?

There's a knock on her door and she nearly screams in frustration.

"Laura, are you ready to go? We were going to hang out, right?"

She quickly wipes her eyes and puts another smile on her face before she answers the door.

"Yeah, just let me grab my stuff and change, I'll meet you out there."

He nods and smiles at her, and she gives him a small smile back before stepping back inside the room. She does what she said she would do, slipping into a pair of skinny jeans and a loose crop top, and then she sits down on her couch, her face buried in her hands, and she allows herself a moment to think.

She doesn't owe Ross anything, she knows. They're not a couple, not even close to it. Their relationship is unstable, unhealthy even, and she's experienced both the highest highs and the lowest lows while she's been with him.

They have the potential to be great. But she can't do anything about it anymore. He's with another girl and she's with this guy even though she doesn't want to be and she has this feeling that this might be it between them. They've crashed and burned more times than she can count but she can't deny how she feels with him anymore.

And then she comes to the realization that there will never be anyone else who can make her feel this way. _Never_.

But it's too late.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, she's back at home in her bedroom, wrapped up tightly in her blankets but unable to sleep, her mind whirling. She had gone straight home after the taping, faking a sudden migraine to get out of hanging out him and then she had driven home and collapsed onto her bed still dressed, where she's been ever since.<p>

She goes through a million different hypothetical conversations in her head, what she wants to say to Ross, what she wants him to say to her, but she knows none of it will happen. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath, and wonders when it will stop hurting.

And then her phone buzzes.

She grabs it, her eyes wearily glancing at the contact information, and then she sits up straight in bed when she sees who sent the text. _Ross_.

_Are you home?_

She swallows.

_Yes._

She holds her breath as she waits for his response.

_4 minutes_.

She lets out a ragged breath and stares at the phone for a few seconds in disbelief before she scrambles out of bed, running her fingers through her hair as she slips on a jacket. Her parents are away for the weekend so she doesn't have to sneak out and she stands outside her front door, her body almost trembling in nervous anticipation.

He pulls up to the curb two minutes later, headlights off as usual, and she takes a deep breath before she walks over to the car. She climbs in and he immediately pulls away without looking at her, barely even waiting until she closes the door.

Her heart is hammering in her chest but she's too anxious to even look at him, and instead tries to focus on the road. He's not driving to their usual place, she soon realizes, but she only has to wait a few minutes to find out what their destination is.

His house.

"No one's home," he mutters in explanation, as he pulls into the driveway, and she nods, still not looking at him.

He gets out of the car the instant it stops and walks inside the house without waiting for her, and she quickly unbuckles her seatbelt to follow him.

She watches silently as he takes off his coat, and then he holds out his hand for hers. She shrugs it off and hands it to him, freezing for a moment when their hands touch, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

She follows him as he walks upstairs without saying a word and then she finds herself standing in the doorway to his bedroom for the first time.

His back is to her, and she sees his shoulders tense for a moment before he turns around, looking at her face for the first time all night.

"I thought you were busy," he says quietly, his voice low.

She shakes her head. "I cancelled. But you had plans tonight."

He nods. "I did. That's where I came from."

So he had been with _her_. "Oh."

He takes a step closer to her and she has to force herself not to take a step back from where she's still standing in the doorway.

"But I left. After about five minutes. I've just been driving around ever since."

"Why did you leave?" she whispers.

One step closer.

"Because I couldn't get the thought of you with _him_, his hands on you, _kissing _you, _touching_ you, out of my head."

She grips the doorframe with her hand, so hard her knuckles turn white. "W-what?"

He's close enough to her now that if she reached out her hand she could touch him. But she doesn't.

He closes his eyes. "I can't get you out of my head, Laura," he whispers. "I can't stop thinking about you. And I don't want to stop."

She steps forward and lifts her hands to cup his cheeks. His eyes stay closed as she gently pulls his head down to rest his forehead against hers.

"Kiss me, Ross," she breathes.

His lips are on hers before she even finishes saying his name, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist as her own loop around his neck, hands sliding into the soft hair at his nape. She melts into him, her knees nearly buckling at the intensity of his embrace, but he just pulls her closer to him, so close she can barely even breathe. He pours everything into the kiss and it shakes her to the core when she realizes how strong his feelings are for her.

She pulls back slightly. "Want you," she mumbles. "I want all of you."

He smiles against her lips and then abruptly lifts her up, his hands cupping her ass and her legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

He walks them to his bed and sits down on the edge so she's straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips, and she raises herself up so he's eye level with her chest. His hands are under her shirt and he presses his face into her chest, pressing his lips to every inch of exposed skin.

She scrunches up his shirt from the back, tugging it upward, and he reluctantly leans back and raises his arms so she can pull it off. He does the same to her and then he pulls her forward so her chest is flush with his, only separated by the soft black lace of her bra.

"You're beautiful," he mumbles softly, his lips pressed to her collarbone. "I'm sorry I've never told you that."

She feels her eyes filling with tears at his words, words she had never thought she would hear coming from his lips, and she responds by capturing his lips in a searing kiss. A few tears spill from her eyes and he immediately notices, pulling back to cup her face in his hands, gently wiping her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his eyes full of concern.

She nods and lets out a teary laugh. "You're all I think about, too," she says softly, and his face relaxes. "And earlier tonight, I thought we were done. But now we're here and you just told me I was beautiful and I like you so much even though I did everything I could not to and—"

"Be with me, Laura," he says, cutting her off. "Will you be with me?"

She thinks her heart might stop if he continues to look at her like that. "Yes," she murmurs, and then leans forward to kiss him again.

His fingers nimbly unhook the back of her bra and she shrugs out of it, throwing it somewhere behind her the instant she gets it off. She wants him more than she's ever wanted anything in her entire life.

She moves away from him and stands up, reveling in the disappointed noise he makes at the loss of her. She unzips her jeans and pushes them down to her feet along with her underwear, heat coiling in her stomach at the dark look in his eyes. She walks over to him and unbuckles his belt, his hips automatically lifting so she can pull off his jeans and boxers.

He's still sitting on the edge of the bed so she pushes on his chest to make him lie down before immediately climbing on top of him, her legs on either side of his waist. She bends down and kisses him, sliding her tongue lazily against his as his fingers move up to grip her hips. She breaks the kiss after a few moments to press her lips to his neck, lightly nipping his Adam's apple before moving down to his collarbone, running her tongue along its length before sucking hard.

"Shit," he moans, and she smiles against his skin, before moving further down. She circles her tongue around his nipple, bringing her hand up to lightly pinch the other and he lets out an unsteady breath that ruffles her hair. She continues her exploration of his body, raking her nails over his hard abs as she presses a wet kiss to each of his ribs, then licks her way down to his defined hipbones. She runs her tongue along each side and he fists a hand in her hair, his eyes closed and low moans escaping from his mouth every few seconds.

She takes a deep breath against his stomach and then slides further down his body until her face is aligned with his cock. She presses a soft, wet kiss to the head of his hard dick, watching as his eyes shoot open in surprise.

"Holy fuck," he groans.

She smirks at him and then takes him into her mouth, pressing her tongue firmly against the underside of his cock before sucking hard, lifting her hand to wrap around the part she can't reach with her mouth. She's never done this for him before, their former activities strictly restricted to car sex, and she didn't think she would get so much pleasure out of it but his reactions, the noises he makes and the look in his glazed eyes is enough to make her feel drunk with arousal.

His hips are moving up in shallow thrusts, his breathing quickening, but his eyes are locked on hers as she brings him closer to the edge.

"Laura," he groans. "Gonna cum."

"Hmmm," she draws out and he lets out a loud moan, bucking his hips into her mouth, making her gag a little as he pulls roughly on her hair.

She can tell he's _close_ and she kind of wants him to finish in her mouth but he's tugging on her arm, making her stop moving.

"Come here," he mumbles, and she melts. He pulls her forward on top of his body and kisses her soundly, his fingertips pressing tightly into her hips. He flips them over so he's on top of her and then runs his hands down her body, pausing to pinch and pull her nipples. She mewls when he dips his tongue into her bellybutton, one of her hands burying itself in his hair, and he lightly nips her stomach before tugging himself back up.

He reaches for her hands and intertwines their fingers before bringing her arms above her head, his forehead resting against hers. She can feel the hot, hard length of him, pressed against her thigh, her entire body covered in a light sheen of sweat, and she feels like she's about to combust.

"You're mine," he whispers softly, almost in disbelief. "You're actually _mine_."

"I'm yours," she whispers back, and then he lifts his hips and thrusts into her.

She gasps into his mouth and his grip on her hands above her head tightens as he raises his hips before bringing them back down, driving himself into her at a torturously slow pace. She feels him deeper than she's ever felt him as her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, her heels digging firmly into his back.

His eyes are still on hers as he breathes heavily against her mouth and she forces herself to keep looking at him as he slightly changes his angle, hitting her in an even more sensitive spot. They've barely begun but she can feel herself already start to tighten around him, the intensity of his gaze combined with the feeling of his cock buried deep inside her enough to send her over the edge.

She moans loudly as she cums, her eyes closing as she throws her head back in sheer pleasure. His lips attach themselves to her exposed neck and he sucks on the skin gently, continuing to slowly pound himself into her even as she contracts around him.

When she recovers, he releases her hands and pulls out of her before gently rolling her onto her stomach and she groans at the loss of him. She doesn't have to wait for long, though, as he descends on top of her, pressing himself into her from behind, his lean torso against her back. She tries lifts her ass up to rub into him and he moans loudly in approval, his thrusts getting faster as he gets closer to the edge.

She does it again and he growls into her ear, his pace now almost frantic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. He wedges a hand underneath her to rub furiously at her clit and she's overwhelmed by his relentless pace, her body writhing as he sucks roughly on her shoulder.

It only takes him a few more irregular thrusts into her tight, wet heat before he releases himself into her, filling her already dripping pussy in hot, thick streams. It's enough to trigger her second orgasm, and she cums, screaming into the pillow underneath her, his fingers still moving rapidly against her sensitive pussy as he prolongs her orgasm as long as he can.

She sinks limply into the bed as he collapses on top of her, his sweat-slicked body sticking deliciously to her own. He gathers her slightly sweat dampened hair in his hand and moves it to the side, pressing his lips to the back of her neck before rolling off, his arm wrapping around her as they both turn on their sides to face each other.

She kisses him again, her tongue sliding lazily against his, and presses herself as close as she can to him. She will never be tired of this, she thinks. His heart beating against her chest, his strong arm heavy around her waist, his lips moving against hers, every _inch_ of her skin pressed to his.

He breaks the kiss to draw the blanket at the edge of the bed up to cover their bodies and then pulls her close, their legs tangling together and her eyes closing as he presses his lips to her forehead.

"You make me so happy," she says, her eyes still closed as he reaches his hand down to intertwine their fingers. "I don't know why I denied it for so long."

"You're _everything_," he replies, and her eyes shoot open in surprise at his quiet confession. "We both made a lot of mistakes."

She buries her face in his neck and takes a deep breath. "I think I might be in love with you," she whispers.

He's silent for a long moment and she's on the verge of sleep when his grip on her hand tightens and he lets out a shaky breath. "I think I might be in love with you, too."

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading! Please review, I would really appreciate it!<p> 


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